TOW The Early Morning
by Jess11
Summary: Rambling, early C & M relationship stuff. Very little plot.
1. Chapter One

Set in season 5, sometime before TOW All the Thanksgivings. Part one of ?  
  
~~~~  
  
  
  
"Mon? Monica?"  
  
Her eyes opened slowly, and she moaned and burrowed deeper under the covers. "Chandler?" she asked sleepily. He was peering down at her, blue eyes wide in the semi-darkness.  
  
And he was whispering.  
  
"What's the matter?" she whispered back, eyes fluttering closed. "What time is it? Why are you up?"  
  
"It's five forty," he said softly.  
  
Her eyes popped back open. "AM?"  
  
"Yeah, AM." Smiling a little, he sank onto the mattress beside her and laid a hand on her back, rubbing in soothing circles. "Hey, I've never stayed almost the whole night before. It's a milestone."  
  
She smiled contentedly, almost drifting back to sleep. "Why don't you stay the rest of the night?" she murmured.  
  
"Because it's morning. And Rachel will be up soon. And then everyone else will be over."  
  
"Rachel doesn't wake up till six-fifteen," she murmured drowsily. "Wait. Actually, her alarm goes off at six fifteen… she hits the snooze button two or three times and usually doesn't make it into the living room till quarter to seven."  
  
"Mm…" Chandler looked at the clock again, then back down at her. "Well, I guess I could stay a little bit longer…"  
  
Monica smiled, scooting over and lifting the covers. He slid between them, turning on his side and moving around till he got comfortable, then settled his head onto the pillow and closed his eyes. After a moment, he opened them, and she was staring straight back at him.  
  
"Hi," he said.  
  
She smiled wider. "Hi." Blinking a few times, she seemed to wake up a bit, and reached out to ruffle his hair. "You're cute in the morning."  
  
"Yes, women find my bed head strangely appealing."  
  
"Hm." She snuggled closer to him. "You mean there were other women before me?" She poked him in the side so he'd know she was joking, and he bent slightly at the waist, smirking.  
  
"Not as many as I'd hoped… uh, I mean… well, you know what I mean."  
  
"You have such a way with words, Chandler… and…" she poked him again, testing something, and again he flinched away. "And you're also ticklish," she added, looking amused.  
  
"I am not."  
  
"Oh really? So if I were to do this…" Abruptly, she shoved her hand under his t-shirt and tickled along his ribs. He jumped and nearly fell off the bed, laughing a little and trying to push her hand away.  
  
"Monica, stop it. Stop!"  
  
She was giggling, and he grabbed her other hand, yanking it above her head at the same time he finally got free. Pinning both wrists against the pillow with one hand, he smirked down at her. "Payback's a bitch, Mon…"  
  
She began to wiggle, knowing what was coming. He zeroed in immediately on the sensitive spot under her arms, tickling with no mercy, and she shrieked and then clamped her mouth shut, even though as a general rule Rachel slept like the dead. "Chandler - no fair, you're bigger than me!"  
  
"Oh, sure, play the 'delicate little woman' card now. I don't think so, honey."  
  
Almost immediately, she stopped squirming, and he paused in his torture to look down at her in confusion. "What?" he asked.  
  
Her smile was slowly growing into a full-fledged grin. "You called me 'honey,'" she said. "You have a pet name for me. That is so sweet."  
  
He sat up slowly, looking slightly embarrassed. It had just slipped out. "That's not a pet name."  
  
"Fine. A term of endearment. Still, it's sweet. You've never done that before."  
  
"I haven't?"  
  
She shook her head. "I've been keeping track." She tapped her forehead.  
  
"Do I want to know?" he asked dryly, sitting straight up and tucking his feet under her to warm them.  
  
"It's - it's just one of my weird things, when I'm in a relationship, I'll take note of little things along the way. To try and gauge where the relationship is heading, what we need to work on…file them away in my head… um." She noticed his expression, and backpedaled. "Oops, I didn't mean to talk about the future...you're freaking out, aren't you?"  
  
Chandler had his lips pressed together, but it turned out he was trying not to smile. She finally realized, and frowned at him.  
  
"What?" she asked.  
  
"Nothing. That's just so you. So 'Monica'. You have a system for everything; I can just imagine how you file this stuff away in your head: 'hand holding,' 'kissing,' 'sex' - hmm, that last time Chandler wasn't quite up to par, we should work on that…'"  
  
Monica had crossed her arms, frowning up at him. "Are you done now?" she asked. "Because that's not what I meant at all."  
  
He smiled wryly. "Sure it wasn't."  
  
"Well, if anything, sex isn't our problem."  
  
"Ah, and so what IS our problem?" he asked, getting right to the meat of the subject.  
  
"Well," she hesitated, "other than the fact that we have to keep this relationship a secret - which might not be the healthiest thing, although it sure is fun - we don't really have any problems. That's what worries me."  
  
"That WORRIES you?" Chandler asked skeptically.  
  
"Yes! I mean, all my relationships have always had problems before. Even guys I was crazy about, like Ri - uh, like, really interesting guys," here he rolled his eyes, "I had problems with."  
  
"Oh, and may I ask what problems those were? With those 'really interesting guys'?"  
  
"No, it happens to be none of your business."  
  
"Come on, Mon. Just one example. I'm curious, that's all."  
  
"Yeah right." He stared at her pleadingly, and she finally sighed, giving in. "Oh, fine. Some of them…"  
  
"And by some of them, you mean Richard," he interjected.  
  
She frowned at him. "Fine. Richard. Richard was too…"  
  
"Old?"  
  
"Normal."  
  
"Ah." He paused. "Are you saying that I'm not normal?"  
  
"No. Well, yes… I mean, you're definitely weird, Chandler, but so am I… and we, we complement each other better than Richard and I did."  
  
"Because we're both obsessive and neurotic."  
  
"Yes!" She looked up at him, wide-eyed. "How did you know?"  
  
"Monica, give me some credit, please. I may not have such a decorated history as Joey, but I understand a thing or two about what makes people compatible."  
  
She was sitting up now, Indian style against the headboard. "So do you have a 'thing'?" she asked, eagerly.  
  
"Well, if you don't know that by now…" Chandler looked mildly insulted.  
  
"No, no. I mean, a little obsessive thing."  
  
"Like how your sheets always have to be on the bed right side up?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"Or how you have eleven categories of towels, or how your closet is color coordinated, or how you wash the dishes in cycles according to the patterns on the plates -"  
  
"Yes, Chandler, I know I have lots of obsessive things," she sighed.  
  
He smiled, leaning over to kiss her softly on the lips. "I love your obsessive things," he murmured.  
  
She gazed back at him, smiling a little. "Really?"  
  
"Really. You wouldn't be Monica without them."  
  
She reached out, toying with the collar of his t-shirt. "So what's one of yours?" she asked, scooting closer.  
  
He put his arm around her, drawing her close so that she was nearly in his lap, and kissing the top of her head. "I'm very obsessive about my little dating rules," he said. "Which, don't really apply between us because you and I aren't just - aren't just messing around, right?"  
  
"No," she said softly. She twined her fingers through his and leaned against his chest. "I hope not."  
  
She felt his exhale ruffle her hair, and he seemed to sag a little bit. "Well then, uh, it's mostly the dating thing… I've always been pretty insecure about that." He chuffed out a rueful laugh. "As I'm sure you've picked up on. But, I've got neurosis out the yin-yang."  
  
She tilted her face up for a kiss, which he bestowed upon her immediately. "I hate that those women gave you any reason to feel insecure," she admitted quietly. "Phoebe and Rach and I - we aren't happy whenever any of you guys is hurt, but especially you. You can be so… so critical of yourself."  
  
"I've had no reason to complain these past few months," he said lightly, brushing aside her concern - he was never too comfortable discussing himself, and even less so in any serious context.  
  
"Well, that makes two of us," she said matter-of-factly, letting it go for the time being.  
  
He gave her the slow smile that she loved - mostly because he seemed to reserve it for her. "I'm glad."  
  
A thump like feet hitting the floor in Rachel's room broke the ensuing silence, and they both stilled, unconsciously holding their breath. After a moment, sleepy footsteps trod across the floor, and Rachel's bedroom door creaked open.  
  
  
  
~~~~  
  
To be continued 


	2. Chapter Two

Author's Note: I know it's been a long time, but I've had this part saved on my computer for months and I thought I'd post it to see if anyone was still interested in reading. Please let me know if you are. :)   
  
-- -- --  
  
"What time is it?" Chandler whispered, glancing at the clock and then the windows, where the pale light of dawn was starting to chase away shadows.  
  
"It's still early. Maybe she's just using the bathroom," Monica whispered back.  
  
"If she turns the shower on, I can sneak out now," he murmured. She nodded, suppressing a wave of disappointment that their early morning interlude was being cut short.  
  
They both waited in silence, Chandler's hand slowly rubbing her back as she leaned her head against his chest. After a minute, the toilet flushed and Rachel's footsteps wandered into the kitchen. The refrigerator opened and closed.  
  
"What's she doing?" Chandler whispered, starting to get worried. What if she sat out there and read the paper or something for half an hour?  
  
"I don't know. Sssh."  
  
He rolled his eyes. "It figures she'd choose this morning to become an early riser."  
  
Monica smiled to herself. "She's probably stumbling around half awake out there. You know Rachel. You could probably walk right out of here and she wouldn't even notice."  
  
"Should we give it a try?" He started to sit up straighter and she yanked at his arm, pulling him back.  
  
"No! I was joking."  
  
"Gullible," he hissed, smirking.  
  
"Sssh," she shushed him again. "What's she doing now?"  
  
"Probably standing outside your door listening."  
  
"No, she's…" Monica concentrated, listening to the faint noises coming from the kitchen. "I think she's making coffee."  
  
"I could use some. You think she'd serve us breakfast in bed?"  
  
"I don't know if she'd be more appalled by us in bed together, or the prospect of cooking," Monica murmured.  
  
"I don't know if *I'd* be more appalled by her finding us together, or the prospect of her cooking," Chandler said wryly.   
  
Monica pressed her face against his chest, hiding a smile.  
  
"Hey," he murmured suddenly, beginning to push her back down onto the mattress. "I just thought of something we can do while the coffee percolates."  
  
Monica immediately tensed. "Chandler!" she whispered. "No, we can't. She's right outside! And it's so quiet; she'd definitely hear us."  
  
Chandler sighed, burying his face in her neck momentarily. He knew she was right, but he'd had a soft, sleepy Monica in his arms for nearly half an hour now, and he was used to being able to do something about that.  
  
Finally, he kissed her shoulder and rolled away from her, flat on his back as he stared up at the ceiling. Monica turned on her side, propping herself up on one elbow and gazing down at him. "Tonight," she promised, tracing her index finger down his cheek to his lips, which he kissed softly. She smiled.  
  
"Hmm..." he grabbed her wrist and then brought it to his chest, pressing her hand right above his heart. After a moment, his eyes popped open. "Hey, I just thought of another one."  
  
"Another what?" Monica asked.  
  
"An obsessive thing. And I know I should have said something before now, but I've never actually spent the whole night with you before, so I think you should know." He grinned mischieviously up at her. "This right here is my side of the bed."  
  
"No, sweetie," she corrected him. "That's MY side of the bed you're on."  
  
"Well, it can't be yours, because it's mine."  
  
She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Whose bed is this?"  
  
"Ours," he replied matter-of-factly. "And I've got dibs."  
  
"Ours?!"  
  
Chandler smirked. "Yes. Remember, a couple of years ago, you accidentally had that way cool race car bed delivered here? How you thought it was tacky, so you returned it and then we went shopping for another bed? I was feeling bitter and thought we could somehow drive the Mattress King out of business by shopping at another store, so you let me pay for the mattress, and you never paid me back." He paused thoughtfully. "So I guess, technically, it's ALL mine..."  
  
Monica stared at him, mouth agape. She did vaguely remember him paying for it, but she was sure she'd paid him back. "Nuh-uh," she said. "I did so pay you back."  
  
"Wanna bet?"  
  
"Oh no," she said immediately. "No more bets with you. Never again. Rachel would kill me if we ended up switching apartments again."  
  
He turned on his side and propped himself up on his elbow, as well. "Why would I want to switch? I spend more time in this bedroom than I do my own anyway. Besides, I already know I'm right. You're just going to have to accept the fact that if I'm sleeping over, I get this side of my bed."  
  
Monica glared at him wordlessly for a moment. She had an uneasy feeling that he probably WAS right about the bed, but he didn't have to be so smug about it. "Stop calling it your bed," she said, even though she knew he was just doing that to get a rise out of her. After ten years of friendship, she and Chandler knew each other too well.  
  
Chandler did his patronizing "Oooh-kay" and patted her on the head. She scowled at him.  
  
"Fine," she said. "But if that's your side of the bed, then you have to make it."  
  
"Just this side?"  
  
"Uh huh."  
  
He laughed. "Honey, that'll work for about five seconds. You never let anyone make your bed but you. This'll drive you crazy."  
  
"No, it won't," she insisted, even though she knew he was right. Just the thought of him making half the bed was enough to give her hives.  
  
He was smirking at her knowingly. Punishment struck swiftly, and well.  
  
"After we get married, we can buy a new bed together," she said, with a flash of inspiration.  
  
The way his face went from gloating to horrified was almost comical.  
  
"Oh," he said, noticing her trying not to smile. "You're joking. You're joking?"  
  
"Only if you stop calling it your bed," she said in amusement. "Otherwise I'm hauling out the Wedding Book and getting Rachel involved."  
  
"I didn't even ask you," he protested. "Nobody even knows about us!"  
  
"I'll say you got me pregnant, too. I'll tell my mother that."  
  
He sighed. "Fine. It's your bed... but this is my side." She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. "Or else I'll tell Joey about our 'home video'. He'll be giving you dirty little looks for months."  
  
"You're bluffing."  
  
"Am I?"  
  
They stared at each other.   
  
And then the phone rang in the stillness of the apartment, causing them both to jump.  
  
"It's barely six o'clock," Chandler whispered in disbelief. "Who would be calling you now?"  
  
"Maybe Rachel was expecting a call," Monica murmured, as she heard her friend pick up the phone almost instantly. "Maybe that's why she got up early."  
  
"From who?"  
  
Monica shrugged, then sighed, flopping back down on the mattress on her back and placing a finger to her lips. They both strained to listen to the conversation through the door.  
  
"... hello?" her voice came faintly. "Um, just a second. May I ask who's calling?"  
  
Monica immediately tensed. "It's for me!" she hissed.  
  
"Who's calling you NOW?" Chandler demanded, sitting straight up in the bed and looking around for a place to hide.  
  
"I don't know! Sssh!"   
  
"Where should I go?" he whispered frantically. "Behind the door? Under the bed?"  
  
"I don't -"  
  
She was interrupted by a gentle tapping on the door, and a creak as Rachel pushed it open a few inches. "Mon? You awake?" 


End file.
